


As Real as You Can Make It

by black_hat_with_bells



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/F, F/M, twistedness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-20
Updated: 2011-04-20
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:05:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_hat_with_bells/pseuds/black_hat_with_bells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How far will you go to know the one you love?</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Real as You Can Make It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [superkappa](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=superkappa).



> prompted for five acts meme for superkappa
> 
> WARNING: shape-shifting sooo....

They had been jumped in an alley.

Claire had been getting death threats--of the permanent kind--and Gretchen had been worried. She had been right to be worried; she watched from the wall as they strapped a struggling Claire (who was just waking up from sedation) down on to a metal table.

It was cruel, and it was clear what they'd do.

"We're going to see how much you can survive," one man said, his face covered and a knife in his hand. "Then we're going to lock you in there. For months." Then he cut along Claire's face.

"STOP," Gretchen cried out, and another man slapped her.

"Don't touch her again, Claire ordered. "It'll be the last mistake you make."

The man pulled his hand back and prepared to strike Gretchen again--

When the bonds holding Claire down flew away, and Claire's eyes darkened into blackness. "I said, not again."

The men were shoved against the wall, pinned there, and Gretchen fell to the ground, looking up at where Claire was holding up her hand, using telekinesis.

"Should I come all the way out?" she/he asked. He was referring to the shape-shifting, asking if he should go back to his real body. Gretchen knew they had to think Claire was more dangerous than she was.

"Keep it up," Gretchen said, apologetically, and Claire (Sylar) nodded. Claire held out her hand, and Gretchen took it. There were sounds all down the halls, sounds of other girls and just other Specials (being harvested).

"What do you want to do?" Gretchen asked, looking into Claire's dark eyes.

An expression of surprise crossed her face before disappearing. "We should figure out how they're doing this, and who's funding them."

Gretchen smiled. "Lead the way."

When the girls cried out in thanks, Claire's eyes darkened further, and Gretchen took her hand, knowing the truth.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Save that for later tonight."

And Gretchen shivered. Little did she know, whatever they had would end a few days later.

***

Someone once told Gretchen that being accepting was the one way to a person's heart.

Anyone's heart. So far, this thesis has been proven incorrect repeatedly. Claire's fear of acceptance did her no favors. It wasn't as if Claire wasn't trying. Claire was a good person, no matter what she said or did. It was, in part, what motivated the girl. Gretchen also had so much to admire about Claire Bennet: her bravery, her strength, her steadyfastness, her attempts to bring honesty to the world, and most of all, her light. No matter what happened, Claire could come back. Sure, she'd break here and there, all in sharpness and rough edges, but she'd come back together and return to her true form.

The form of someone who Gretchen happened to...more than like. Their relationship had been drifting in the more-than-like direction. So, when Claire asked Gretchen to her house in New York, Gretchen was more than thrilled. Only, Claire was taking the world on her shoulders once more.

Clearly, she had a lot to do. Gretchen saw stacks and stacks of papers on the table of the Bennet house. Her father didn't talk to her, keeping their conversation to a cool back and forth about mundane life, but Claire wasn't asking for advice.

"I'm looking for an apartment," Claire confided to her, at a late three o'clock early morning. "I'm going to New York. Now that the Company has been outted, we need to get some laws into place. Nathan...would have been great at that," she said, slowly. "But Angela has a friend of a friend. We're going to do this."

Only, when she said, 'we' she meant 'me'.

"I can help." Though most of her degree had been taken up in forensics. Gretchen wanted to go into the FBI one day. She loved to know how people ticked.

"You're my emotional support," Claire reassured her, squeezing her hand, but she felt as if she was talking up to a giant, someone she couldn't reach. Claire danced around her problems. It wasn't that she lied, or didn't mention certain things: lack of pain, fear of inhumanity. She mentioned but despite all she said, she never...said. Often it was covered up in a bitter sweet humor, a bit barbed to make people step back, because mostly because...Claire wanted to help herself, to be able to help herself. Giving another a reign was difficult, and on one hand, Claire didn't want to hurt her.

This, Gretchen knew. Even though there was still so much that she'd never know because this was Claire, who--despite the attention--was never quite known.

Now Claire was the sun in the sky, and she was on the ground. During the night, Gretchen could feel the tension in Claire's shoulders, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't soothe her.

***

Gretchen met Sylar through Claire.

At the Petrelli dinner, with a thousand reporters swarming outside, Claire took Gretchen's hand and was guiding her along through the house. She had a sense that Claire was protecting her, or trying to. She didn't ask her to accompany her outside, and any...date they had was research. Claire promised to take her to the Company one day, to show her all the powers that were out there--'That can be used for good while being ourselves' Claire explained, dedicated and firm.

But Gretchen didn't mind being led. At the party, Claire had her hair tied up in a mockingly demure way, her gaze steady and searching the crowd. She hadn't introduced Gretchen as her girlfriend, though. Not once. Gretchen noticed but she thought, maybe, she was being petty. Being a superpowered person was of utmost importance, and Claire always made a point to say how proud she was to be with Gretchen. Gretchen thought Claire was beautiful.

However, she lost Claire in the crowd, and she retreated to the bar, unsure of what to do. A tall, dark man came up to her.

"I know you," he informed her, in a voice that could just drape over you.

"We have something in common then," Gretchen answered, feeling as if some sort of joke or mindgame was going on.

"Oh? Something in common..." he muttered, eying her over his glass. His eyes were dark and heavy and consuming. Who was this person? "I don't have a lot in common with most people," he said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Well, we both know me," Gretchen said, helpfully, feeling as if she just....stepped in it. To be blunt.

He stared at her for awhile, and then something clicked in his eyes, as if he suddenly understood--something Gretchen didn't expect to have happen when it came to her. His lips quirked upwards. His eyes kept burning into hers, and she started to want to drop her gaze. It was something she did, anyway: step back, observe, and go inward with her thoughts. It was a struggle to meet his gaze.

"You're here with Claire?" he asked.

"Yes, I am," Gretchen said quickly. "I mean, I'm just here with her."

"Ah. So, Claire-bear still needs help with opening up," he said. At Gretchen's startled look, he shrugged. "I enjoy helping Claire. I...want to help her," he said, a sudden change in his tone. As if something else was shifting inside of him.

"Somethign else we have in common," Gretchen said, smiling at him. "What is your name?"

He looked confused at the question. "Right now...for now, it's Gabriel."

Confused but curious, Gretchen furrowed her brow.

"It's nice to meet you, Gretchen," he said, smiling back in his own way, sure of her name on his tongue--playing with her name, as if branding it. A type of ownership. Odd. Gretchen was even more curious.

"Sylar!"

They both jumped. Claire stepped in front of Gretchen quickly. "What are you doing?"

"Mingling," he answered. "Peter asked me here. I'm staying here. Didn't he tell you?"

She couldn't see Claire's expression but she saw her knuckles turning white from where she was gripping the table. "I should tell you to get around Peter and Gretchen as often as possible, right? That way, in your mind, you'll get over it, you obsessive psycho-."

"Claire," Gretchen said, whispered, because this was a new side of Claire. Yet another.

"I should turn you in," Claire continued, softening, but she stepped back from Sylar.

"You can if you want," Gabriel, Sylar, whomever, answered. "It is what I deserve."

"Stay away from Gretchen. She's not something you can take from me, don't you get that. Neither is Peter."

Gabriel opened his mouth-.

"Peter will know if you don't cut it out," Claire said, confident, and that appeared to styme him. "Let's go," she said to Gretchen. "It's gotten really homicidal in here all of the sudden."

She put an arm around Gretchen's shoulders and guided her out. "You okay?" she asked, concerned.

"I'm...a little shaken," Gretchen added on at the last second. If showing need was what Claire wanted, she'd do it. For Claire, she'd do that. Besides, being in a relationship--this was what it was about, the give and the take. Claire rubbed her arm comfortingly and called their limo.

"It's my fault," Claire said, hand on her knee. "I can't help but think about Peter. I should have taken one for the team, should have--Peter shouldn't be the one to have to deal with him."

Gretchen knew she'd never really know what happened. She was speaking in riddles again. Gretchen put a hand on Claire's hand, and Claire broke away from that far reality in shock. Smiling, softening, she leaned forward and kissed Gretchen a little bit possessively, protectively.

"You'll be all right," Claire said, a hand on her cheek. "Trust me."

"For you, I will be," Gretchen said, throwing herself out there.

Claire smiled, seeming to be about to speak, but holding back. She did kiss her again, and Gretchen leaned against her-feeling her through her dress. Now all Gretchen wanted to do was help Claire.

To do this, she'd find out more about this Sylar.

***

Forensics class was always interesting.

It was finding a pattern, having the 'ah-hah' moment when the question was answered. Claire always winkled her nose at Gretchen's case studies: flipped through her volumes of 'Aggressive and Violent Behavior' . Claire didn't mind chemistry, and she preferred the biology book Gretchen brought to their apartment: didn't like the nature videos though. But the case studies she full out despised.

"They just make me angry," Claire said, rubbing her arms as if to fight away chills. "Those people can't say who killed them after the fact."

There was a rape case study that Gretchen found lying on their table, only halfway read. It seemed to have been abruptly abandoned.

Gretchen didn't bring it up to Claire. She was the same way about certain movies that would drift across their screen. Horror movies, Claire did not like. For a Halloween marathon, Gretchen had been stretched out on the floor, watching, when she felt a presence in the room and looked up to see Claire in the doorway, as still as stone.

Gretchen switched it off, and Claire merely left quickly. Gretchen kept things light and fun with Claire which wasn't a bad thing. In fact, she quite loved it. She looked up the meaning of 'Claire' once.

Origin: Latin, French. Meaning: Clear; bright; famous.

This was Claire. She went out as often as she could, head held high, and Gretchen would lay besides her on the beach, awkward but shading her eyes to read her book. She took Gretchen to a high club once, the city sparkling in and everyone dancing. Claire was in a red dress--a color she approved of, because Claire was also fire--and she was dazzling, blinding.

In the end, however, Gretchen saw that Claire went to the club with a mission in mind. She cornered a rich-looking woman in the room, and said, "I have a friend who's very good with computers. We know what you're doing."

The woman stilled, and finally, Gretchen recognized her. A politician's younger sister. "What do I need to pay you?" she asked.

Claire's eyes shone. "Nothing. I don't want a thing from you. I'm going to expose you. I just wanted you to know and tell you to your face," she said, and the woman's drink slipped out of her hands. The music covered the shattering glass, and Gretchen, for one minute, thought Claire was going to get hit. Even though it didn't hurt Claire, and Gretchen had accepted it: jumping from a high place is different than someone hitting you in the face. Gretchen didn't want to see that and stepped closer, but the woman held her fist by her side.

'Trash," the woman bit out.

Gretchen's gut clenched. Claire stepped forward. "I'm not the one whose husband is selling Special babies on the market. I think it'll hurt your book deals, don't you? You can you pay then?"

The woman looked away, and they left. Gretchen didn't know what to say. "I'm sick of people hiding in the shadows," Claire said, as her name said, and flipped out her cellphone, talking at length in riddles and holding Gretchen's hand.

Last night, there was a murder: someone killing people in a riot: a Special. He was caught, but first, something was removed from his body, a part of one of his glands. Everyone was in a panic.

She'd learned what Sylar's power was from Claire, though Claire seemed to drag her feet in telling her.

Gretchen knew how to help.

***

Gretchen approached him.

In a manner of speaking.

So, when Claire was away--keeping her own life--Gretchen would take time out of her schedule and wander down to the Petrelli mansion, looking for him. She wanted to help Claire, and if it meant figuring this man out, exposing him, then--she would. She sat outside the mansion and opened her book, pretending to read. She saw a flash of Peter moving down the steps. She thought he was at the hospital so that was strange...

She ducked her head, having a story in mind if he approached her. She looked up and he was gone. Gretchen staked out the house and sighed, walking back in the dark.

"Hey, Gretch," Claire greeted from the kitchen. "I was waiting for you."

Gretchen frowned and threw her bookbag on the couch. "I thought you'd be busy today."

"I wanted to make some time for you," Claire answered, smiling brightly. "I have been avoiding you lately, haven't I? I didn't mean to, it's just all this...in my head, it's a lot to deal with."

Gretchen smiled. "I know. I thought you'd notice sometime, but I couldn't be sure."

"That's a...really honest response," Claire said. Gretchen sat down and opened her book.

"Yeah. I want us to be honest with each other. I want to know why you're acting--and talking--so differently. It doesn't seem like..." Gretchen trailed off, thinking she had been too rude to Claire after a long day. But something was distinctly not Claire, not her Claire.

She heard Claire pad up behind her, lean over, and breath down the back of her neck. "Oh--that looks fascinating."

Her voice changed. Gretchen dropped her book and turned around and stared into his eyes. She processed it for a moment. "I'd say your fascinating thing trumps mine," Gretchen muttered, and he laughed.

"You were looking for me." Gretchen watched him walk around to the side of the couch and sit beside her. "Am I going to have to get a restraining order?" he asked, and she realized this was a joke. A really twisted one, come to think of it.

"No. No," she said. "You don't have to worry about me."

He smiled again, tilting his head. "Good. For a moment there, I was afraid," he whispered, in this way. "I'm so glad you don't want to do me harm, Gretchen. What do you want?"

"To...to just know Claire's friends."

"That tingles," he said, and she was at a loss.

"Not know like that," she clarified.

"You lied," he said. "Before. I can tell, you know, when people lie to me."

"Oh, sorry. I just thought you'd be mad if you heard the truth."

"That's usually the case. Sorry," he said, smiling at her.

"I'm tingling right now."

He stared.

"I mean, if I had your power. I don't think you're really sorry. Okay. I wanted to figure you out. So...I didn't really lie. Are you sure your power is working?"

He thought about it, frowning. "It might have been the word choice," Sylar said. "You said ''Claire's friends'. That could be the problem."

"Is there a word for what you two are? So I can show you I'm not lying?"

"There isn't really a word," he muttered, a little surprised. "Come to think of it."

"There," Gretchen said. "I'm not a liar. Thank you very much."

"My apo--wait," he said, "Back on track. You want to figure me out?"

"It's my thing. I'm going into forensics, and I hope to go into the FBI. I was curious about you and your past."

"It's a dangerous thing, to want to know," he said, eyes darkening.

"Aren't most things worth knowing?" Gretchen asked. "Besides, I'm not in your target group. I don't have a power. And most importantly, you are reformed?"

Hadn't his power been an issue? Claire said that Peter worked with him.

He considered this thoughtfully. "You're right there too."

"That was the first thing I wanted from you," Gretchen said, and Sylar raised an eyebrow. "The second thing was your help. There was a murder, did you hear about it?"

"There's a lot of murder going on in the world," Sylar said. "Usually every second of every day."

"True," Gretchen said. "But the Special in the park that attacked people who were protesting the revelation of Specials. Something was missing from his body, I heard."

"I didn't hear about that," Sylar said, straightening up. "But then again, they don't tell me everything. Seem to think I'll relapse."

"If I show you the building and you helped me figure out what was taken, will you relapse?"

Sylar grinned. "No."

"Then okay. Will you help me?" Gretchen asked. "I'd be eager to see your original power in action."

He raised an eyebrow and seemed at a loss for a moment. Finally, he nodded.

***

"This is fantastic," Sylar said.

Instead of looking on the inside, where Gretchen had reopened the body, he was looking into the brain.

"The gland isn't in there," she joked. He smirked.

"But the key to it all is. There is a sign that something was entered into the body for a long period of time. His body had to adapt but especially the brain. Several lobes are expanded: there was a imbalance here, and something foreign too."

"What does that mean?"

He looked over the head of the dead body. "He's not a natural Special. He's synthetic."

Gretchen stopped, her eyes wide. "I've never heard of that before." As if she had heard about any of this for a long time.

"I doubt it's been done before. Never like this. There's too many mistakes."

"Is that why he attacked those people at the riot? Maybe since his body was under so much stress, he was violent."

"Or else, he was chosen to replicate a Special's power," Sylar said, and the truth of this words and the way of his thinking...

"You know," Gretchen said, staring at him. "This man was homeless for a long time."

"How do you know? Is that in the file?" Sylar asked.

"His teeth. The state of them," Gretchen clarified. "His fingernails, too.Here, he's dressed up in new clothes. Expensive clothes."

"That's not a coincidence," Sylar echoed, straightening up and smiling into the dark. "Someone was trying to make us look bad. They used this one as a guinea pig and paid him to let them do it."

They stared at each for a long time, and Gretchen, for the first time in awhile, felt useful.

"You have something to tell Peter," Gretchen said, and Sylar looked down.

"Yes," he said, raising his head and staring at her. "Do you have something to tell Claire?"

She hesitated. "No. You figured it out."

Sylar was quiet, and after a beat, she let herself out.

***

Gretchen would assume things were going well. Claire seemed calmer, and if Gretchen had anything to do with that--then she felt like she had hung the moon.

At night, she'd curl up to her Claire and try to be there. In response, Claire offered to help Gretchen on her anatomy lesson--like literally. Gretchen was a little nervous but curious. However, a week later, just when she was getting ready to study, Peter and Claire were called by the mysterious Angela Petrelli off again. Alone, she read the book herself.

"You haven't come back."

Gretchen raised her head slowly to where he sat, watching her. "To...?"

"To figure me out. But it's not me you wanted to figure out, was it?"

"You're very interesting," Gretchen said and meant it.

Sylar seemed pleased to hear so, but he also seemed tired. It was just something she sensed. "Did I help? With the case?"

"You did," he said. "Things got under control. Therefore, quid pro quo."

"...Did you just quote Hannibal? I know that's a common saying but..."

Sylar's mouth twitched. "What did you want to know about? And let's make it more interesting. In your heart's desire--what do you want to know about the most? And don't lie," he reminded, helpfully.

She looked down at her hands, feeling suddenly naked. Her heart went to one person. What good was it to lie?

"Claire," she said.

"And you don't know her very well, do you?" Sylar asked, knowing the answer.

Gretchen smiled sadly. "It's all right."

"You lie," he said cheerfully, almost maliciously.

"More to myself," Gretchen said. "I have to."

That calmed him down, and he stared around their apartment--peeked towards their bedroom.

"Not necessarily," he said. "That's what I came to offer. My knowledge of Claire Bennet."

"No offense," Gretchen said, "but she doesn't seem to be sharing any words with you, least of all deep secrets."

"Ah," Sylar said, "but I don't need words. I've seen two things of her. Her mind, how she works..." Gretchen tensed, "And her soul. So to speak. The crevices of a person. I have memories of her, from almost everywhere. I think I'm quite the authority on Claire."

"I doubt anyone will be an authority on Claire," Gretchen said. Sylar tilted his head.

"I expected nothing less. I can see you care about her. But you're holding back, too, keeping your distance. You want to go further with her, but you're afraid you'll hurt her too."

Gretchen's smile fell. He stood and drew closer, sitting with her across from the bed. "Sometimes I hate being right."

"I'd tingle now too. If, you know," she said sadly.

"Tell me, where your parents? Your family?"

Gretchen looked down, and then...forced herself to look up, thinking of Claire. "I'm doing this on my own. They disowned me once they found I preferred girls."

Sylar leaned forward, closer... "I want to help you," he said, and turned into Claire. Her green eyes, her face, her lips: so much light,-- "Don't hold back your feelings. Give me everything," Claire said, and it would never be what Claire would say--but it was what Gretchen wanted her to say. "It won't burn you."

And she kissed her consumingly, always the way which Claire hadn't before. "Do you want to see--," she whispered, pushing Gretchen down and crawling on top of her, "the good," and she kissed her again, and Gretchen felt someone looking around, deep inside, and then giving her a flash--of her Claire, pulling a man out of the fire. Sitting near her mother, baking as sun lit the kitchen, and her dancing through the sprinkler. Holding Peter's hand. Telling a dying woman that she'd come back for her. Tellign her father that he was her superman, jumping on...on Sylar to save a girl, holding a blonde's hand on a plane...

A profound ability to compassion and healing, resilence, loyalty. Indepdence. Joy. Love (only a glimpse).

"The bad," and there was a flash of a wall speeding towards them with a boy screaming in the passenger seat, the bitter twists and turns of envy and anger and pride and helplessness-her limbs regrowning no matter how many times. Tasering a man, with an 'Got you', an edge of something dark there that scared her...waking up on an autopsy table, and here, Gretchen cringed: despite her curiosity, she had no right to see this, and Sylar felt her grimace and moved on.

With whatever this part was, he moved away from the Gretchen part of her, as if sensing a boundary. He saw one thing, and what that was, she didn't know, but he stepped back and brought Claire forward again.

"Or just how she feels about you," Sylar said, and that.

That was bliss. Love and warmth and light swam over Gretchen, and it was the most peaceful, beautiful thing anyone could know. She pulled Claire towards her, tears in her eyes, and wanting more, more.

(Claire had never been intimate with her, never, always stiffening and pulling away, an apology always unspoken and unexplained-)

Until Claire broke away and the light dimmed.

Sylar was there again, and he touched her cheek. "And now you know. My good dead for the...next couple of years," he said and stood.

"Wait," Gretchen said. "You can't just...there's more to know."

Sylar had a flash of something in his eyes and looked away. "Always."

Gretchen couldn't ask for it. She wanted to--she was shaking and shivering and feeling empty now, after being born again. It was like being ripped away from heaven. Only, she didn't have to ask.

"I'll see you again," Sylar said.

"Why?"

"Because a special girl like you deserves to know."

With that, he walked through the door and disappeared into the night.

***

It became an addiction. Love.

A love so strong and fierce that Gretchen began to understand whhy Claire kept so distant, so under control. She only understood through Sylar. During the day with Claire, she'd begin to forget, despite herself.

With Sylar as Claire, she knew and was renewed. She kissed and didn't hold back, and neither did this Claire, who seemed greedy and hungry, holding her so tightly as if to love her to death. However, this Claire was also very careful with her. Maybe even more careful than her Claire.

She began to feel more lonely around her Claire. It was weird and difficult and sad but she did it for Claire too. To remain with her, to be with her. For someone to love her that much, she'd do whatever she needed to to keep it. She restrained herself around Claire, while telling the other Claire everything.

As (Sylar) put it, one night against her, "We all have things we hide from the ones we love. They can never know us. Not really."

Gretchen agreed. She told this Claire all her secrets. The not-so-great parts about her life, which she listened to. The sharing of information seemed vital to this Claire, and the weirder stuff, didn't phase her.

She told this Claire her darkest desires, what she wanted from Claire, and this Claire let her. She'd lay back, and tempt her to tie him up--to explore. She, at first, held back, but began to go further with Claire's power, or just Claire's body. Kissing and biting and cutting to see the healing, to see the heart of her--and a trusting Claire underneath her--

"You're mine," she said.

"Yours."

"You love me," Gretchen demanded it. (Say it, say it, why won't you-)

"I love you."

And there was only desperation, a frantic needful oneness as if the world was ending.

And then a loving Claire, no matter what. A Claire that wanted her so much she couldn't stay away.

When her Claire came back in the morning, Gretchen felt as if she'd been to a confession. It was to protect Claire.

And to love Claire. That was all. At the end of the day, she just wanted to remember how Clarie felt about her.

***

"You're doing it wrong," this Claire commented, eying the equation with distaste.

Gretchen thought about it and erased the equation. "Would Claire know this?"

"No. And?"

"Turn back into yourself," Gretchen said, and after some hesitation, Sylar did, staring back at her. "You know, it's weird. I haven't seen you in awhile. I mean, the real you."

Sylar seemed to tense. "Are you sure about that?"

Gretchen looked over at him, and despite herself, she felt something twist in her chest. She touched his hair, and looked into his eyes.

"I'm not sure. How can I be? Who can be sure? That's the risk, right?"

He blinked and looked back at the equation. "I know for sure that problem is incorrect."

"Then show me how to do it," Gretchen said, and hesitantly, he took a pencil. Half an hour later, there was a design constructed in their living room. It'd have to be dismantled before Claire came back, but Gretchen was having fun, watching him work.

"This is physics," he said. "Now, watch, this will fly along this arc."

"As long as you don't break the laws of physics."

"Right," Sylar said seriously, and Gretchen smiled at him.

"You can fix anything?"

He paused. "Anything," he said, and Gretchen was curious about that pause. But she went along with it anyway.

"The human body too?"

"I fixed a brain tumor once," he offered, soaking up the attention. She tilted her head, thinking this guy could cure cancer. And her belief was proven as he said he probably could. Waited for something.

"You don't have to, though," Gretchen said. "It wouldn't mean anything if it was forced."

He seemed taken aback, and muttered something about thinking about it. Sometime.

She started a conversation about melding biology and mechanics, and that distracted him from the problem of physics but not for long. They had a lively debate about the concept of time. Patterns of human interaction coupled with environmental factors and chemistry, and how this was especially relevant to human superpowers.

The hows and whys of it all. The most stirring debate was about comic books, of all things.

He did start to promise her things: like going to a history museum and touching the objects to know the past. (and wow, that power was interesting). To see the sky from so far above, and yeah, they did that too, and she didn't mind it.

But she liked his original power best, and she thought he got that.

Intuitively.

After being with someone so long, you'd think you'd know someone. She didn't have to know him, not really, not as she knew (now) Claire. In a way, it was comforting, not to know so much.

He didn't seem to mind her case studies either, offering insights into the minds of criminals, of people, that astounded her.

"What's the meaning of your name?" he asked, knowing something about her, and she was happy, intriqued rather than alarmed. ...It truly did make her happy. This was the one thing he had glimpsed that time when he used that power, and he still asked her.

"It's origin is Greek, and it means 'pearl'.

Sylar nodded. "Makes sense. Intuitively," he said, and she was content to let him have that secret, that one thing. She didn't feel threatened by not knowing.

Ironically, after being with him for a month intimately (in a fashion), she began to tentatively call him a friend. She thought she might call him Gabriel--give or take--a few months.

***

Their joint saving of Claire began after threats began to pour in. They had saved Claire's immortal life (more times than they could count).

It was after some uncountable time, that Gretchen came home to see a watch on Claire's wrist. Sylar.

"Oh," Gretchen said. "That's the watch you wanted to fix. I've ordered the parts under my name, so."

"So," Claire said, in a way that was hers, but now, never hers again) and Gretchen's world shattered. "Something you'd like to tell me? As in, I'm apparently telekinetic now?"

Gretchen stood there, bag in hand. Wordless. The air seemed to disappear out of the room.

"Gretch," Claire said, again. "Tell me the truth. For once, someone needs to. I...I need you to."

Her heart threatened to stop. It hurt, even beating. "It's..." Gretchen said. "It was to protect you. There are people after you, and I thought, this would help."

"Sylar. In my skin," Claire said.

"It's not technically your skin," Gretchen pointed out, because it wasn't. She had begun to notice, over time, how different they did taste.

Claire stared up at her in disbelief. This was a first time in months, only...it wasn't. This was the first time with her Claire that she had voiced her old beliefs again.

"Oh, well, that makes it all peachy, then," Claire said. "What's going on?"

And she could tell now, that Claire wouldn't think that way. That she couldn't think that way. If Gretchen told her, it would be...

"I can't."

"You...you can't. Then it must have been pretty wrong, if you can't even..." Claire paused and then turned away.

Oh my god. Gretchen realized too much at once, and she couldn't bear....what she had done.

"I never knew how you felt," Gretchen said, and winced.

And there it was. Claire stood up as if propelled. There was a flash of hurt (deep hurt) but it faded, was covered. The wound healed as quickly as if it wasn't there, but the mark was--and Gretchen had put it there. She knew Claire so well that she put it there.

"I didn't have to tell you," Claire said. "Didn't you have faith in me? If it was real, you should have just...gotten it."

"It doesn't work that way," Gretchen argued. "You hardly wanted to be touched."

"Sorry I wasn't quick enough for you," Claire bit out.

"Didn't you have faith in me?"

"Not any--."

Claire bit back the words, but it was out there. Gretchen shattered but somehow...held. The truth was there.

"This is who I am," Gretchen said. "I would do this. This is me." As so many other things were. This was her.

Claire looked at her for a long time.

"I'm so sorry I hurt you," Gretchen said.

And Claire turned away. "You didn't hurt me, you hurt yourself."

Only, Gretchen wasn't sure. Gretchen didn't know. Didn'tknow anything. They had hurt each other. Because they had cared for each other. But Gretchen had wanted more. Claire had wanted more. Too much than normal, and too different to meet...

And Gretchen. Had been the one to go too far. She saw that now, she...saw a new side of herself as Claire did, rather than the other way around. The knowledge shattered another layer.

"Don't judge everyone by me," Gretchen said, and Claire didn't answer, her jaw tense. "You're...you're perfect."

Claire smiled, an echo of an echo at the words. "That is what they always say...I'll let you have the apartment."

"No. You...you're needed here."

They stared at each other, and Claire stepped forward and hugged her.

And it was done. Just like that.

***

"I came to find you."

Gretchen looked up. "I'm shopping for an apartment."

Sylar stood near her, studying her. "Did I ruin it?" he asked.

"No," she said. "We...I did. It was just us, how we fit together. It didn't hold," she said. "The risks of having a relationship, and all."

"I hate the risks," Sylar said, eyes dark.

"But that's how it's real. Only, I tried to cheat. I tried to make it not a risk at all," Gretchen said. "I pushed the limit, had to know the new rule. I pushed, and I took, and I broke it...It's my fault. I was wrong."

She swallowed hard and had to keep her breathing steady.

"I led you to that theory."

"And I know now. So thank you," Gretchen said. Sylar stood there, and looked away, but didn't move. It was as if he was riveted to the spot. "What about you? How are you?" she asked.

"I'm moving out," Sylar said. "Peter was a little upset with me."

Gretchen frowned. "But...you were just being yourself."

His eyes flickered. "We have something in common." Gretchen raised an eyebrow. "We're both looking for an apartment."

Gretchen recognized it for what it was, a rare reach out. She knew it because she had gotten to know him. The familiarity was comforting, and for once, she knew she'd have to navigate the rules again. Unlike how she did before (she'd never ask for Claire again, from him. Never). She'd find out the fair way.

She held up a map and met his gaze. Held it.

"Then let's find a place for us."


End file.
